


The Feckless Mind

by Ozymanreis



Series: 30 Day Sheriarty Challenge [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Heavy Angst, Letters, M/M, Memory Alteration, Pain, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Break Up, Pre-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: Jim comes to regret breaking up with Sherlock over something so minor. Sherlock, on the other hand, appears to be doing fine, but all is not as it seems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 10: Break up, with the caveat of not leaving someone for someone else. 
> 
> I'm sorry, this one is gonna hurt D:

It had been a few weeks.

Jim was supposed to feel better by now, wasn’t he? He thought so. He always had. Heck, his last boyfriend… He wasn’t even hurt by, now that he thinks about it. But before, when break-ups _had_ hurt, he could remember not caring very much even as little as a day later.

Sherlock was different. With Sherlock… Jim hates the term “the one,” but if there ever was _one_ , it was Sherlock.

And he was gone.

It was sort of Jim’s fault, yes. He’d been the ones to actually say the words, “Don’t bother, we’re through.” A short, but fatal sentence, now burned into his soul. But Sherlock was just so _inconsiderate,_ while Jim had often bent overly nearly backwards to accommodate the man. Because yes, Sherlock _hadn’t_ properly been in a relationship before, and Jim wanted so badly to teach him…

But what he didn’t want was to be a lab rat. Prodded until he couldn’t be anymore. Sherlock didn’t learn, he just… went on. Saying awful things at the wrong times. It’d been charming once, but…

And maybe it could be charming again. Jim’s thumb had flicked to Sherlock’s name in his messages, anyway. It was late. 2:14am, to be precise, and maybe Jim had a few pulls of a beer to take the sheer edge of _sorrow_ off. Was this what regret was truly like?

Maybe, maybe…

Jim opens a new text.

Then promptly shuts it. He falls asleep hugging a pillow and his phone to his chest.

 

* * *

 

They run into each other on accident.

It’s a month later, and Jim’s at a coffee shop, ordering coffee and a scone for breakfast. And… there he is. He notices the curls first. Then his eyes travel down, long fingers cupped on a book, clear blue eyes grazing over the pages.

“Hi.” Jim says, a little more breathlessly than he intended, suddenly standing too close to the table.

Sherlock’s eyes fly up, tilting his head to the side, “Moriarty.” He replies, almost like a question.

Ouch, but Jim accepts he might deserve a modicum of coldness, though the man before him seemed more curious than anything. “Do you mind if I…?” He gestures to the chair across from him.

Sherlock blinks, looking evermore intrigued. _Odd_. “Of course.” Jim sits, sipping his coffee, “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, all things considered.” Sherlock sets his book down, folding his fingers together on the table in front of him, “Why are you here?”

“Good morning to you too.” Jim wets his lips, taking his scone from the bag, “Breakfast, mostly. Saw you. Thought I’d say hello.”

“Oh well. Hello.” Sherlock gives a muted smirk, something behind it Jim can’t quite read. “It’s very human of you… to eat.”

It’s Jim’s turn to be confused — Sherlock and had eaten together. Many times before. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was nearly convinced you were like me. Only ate for sustenance. That’s sweet, isn’t it? For pleasure.” 

“Mm… maybe.” _I eat many things for pleasure_ … It’s the first time Jim’s smiled since. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s changed. “Do you think… sometime… you might want to meet up?”

“We’re met up now.” Sherlock points out, perplexed.

“Right.” Jim nods slowly, “I meant for… maybe dinner, or something?”

“Why would we do that?” Sherlock asks, now overtly confused, that same look Jim recognizes that he gave Ms. Adler.

“Oh. Well. Never mind then.” Jim gets up, feeling that familiar sensation of his heart being ripped out. It was a little too much to bear in public. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll be surprised each time.” Sherlock says, but his tone conveys agreement of some form.

 

* * *

 

Leaving the shop, about a block away, a car pulls up. Black sedan. _Oh_. Jim knows what that means.

Sure enough, the window rolls down, revealing a particularly smug looking Mycroft Holmes.

“The older brother,” Jim teases somewhat hollowly, “Come to bite at my ankles?”

“Charming as I would find that…” The elder Holmes replies, extending his arm out from the car, “It’s a bit of a minor errand today.” There’s a pearly white envelope in his hand.

“Poison?” Jim asks, not movign to take it at all.

“From Sherlock.” Mycroft rolls his eyes, “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Whether he believes him or not, Jim takes it almost too quickly. “A letter?”

“So I assume. He penned it not long after your little…” He crinkles his features, “Mishap.” He gives a breathy hum, then offers another smug smile, “He said you should read it alone.”

“Why isn’t he giving it to me himself?”

But the window rolls back up without another word. Jim watches as the car drives off and disappears in the morning traffic.

 

* * *

 

Dutifully, Jim waits until he’s home to open it. He sets his coffee and pastry on the table, then sits. He turns the letter over in his hand a moment, feeling it gain roughly a ton. It’s bad, whatever it is. He knows this innately, somehow, through some lasting connection with Sherlock and all that he was capable of.

Finally, he rips the seal open, barely noticing the stationary itself was Bohemian:

 

_I’m sorry._

 

Christ, even that pathetic first sentence is too much to bear. Pathetic, so why did it _hurt?_

 

_I really am. In ways, I would’ve loved to have held on. Thought about you on bad days to come, because I’m sure there will be. But in the end the illusion I hold of myself… isn’t me. I’m not as strong as I would like, and the idea, the reality of living without you after knowing what it was like to truly be with you… I’d never be the same. You’d never stop plaguing my thoughts, and I found myself consumed with “what if”s and regret. Things I can’t have as a detective who’s supposedly hunting you._

_I told Mycroft only to give you this letter in case we saw each other again. I thought that if you never found out, you never had to, and the truth wouldn’t have to hurt you. But you’re reading this, so it must be done._

_In case it isn’t clear: I don’t remember you. You read John’s blog. You know I delete things, information… I can do it with people too. I’ve done it before, and I’ve done it again._

_I loved you. And the memory of the person I was when I was with you, will always love you, and exist in some way. I’d like to say I’m leaving him untainted and perfect by deleting him before things must get ugly, before we’re at each other’s throats with bitterness, but I’d be lying. He has to go because he’d like nothing more than to throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness, desperate for any way to fix things between us. What’s worse is I would let him. Myself. You’re worth more than anything, and if I thought it would work, I’d do so. But since it won’t… this is the best I can do._

_Maybe one day you can forgive me, though I don’t blame you if you won’t. I just ask that you don’t try to remind me. Ultimately, this is better for us both._

_Take care. SH x_

 

Jim isn’t crying. He can’t be. But the ink on the page is wet, staining and smearing under droplets. _Before…_ Sherlock hadn’t been standoffish, he genuinely didn’t remember what had happened.

Jim sits. Lets his coffee grow cold. Really, what is there to do about that? This? Why, of all people, for the first time in his life… he wanted to get back together with the one person who was indifferent to him after all was said and done.

Revenge was too simple a word.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written months ago, but I was actually really pleased to see that my prediction that Sherlock could alter and erase people from his memory in this way was canon confirmed.


End file.
